That rhetoric had been going on in Ten-Towns for decades, and Regis knew no rules would ever keep the boats apart out there on the cold waters of the large lake. Where the knucklehead were found, so the boats would go, whatever the rules. Knucklehead trout, perfect for scrimshaw and good eating besides, were the staple of the towns' economy, the lure that brought so many ruffians to Ten-Towns in search of fortune.

The rules established in this room so far from the banks of the three great lakes of Icewind Dale were no more than tools councilors could use to bolster subsequent tirades, when the rules had all been ignored.

By the time the halfling councilor from Lonelywood woke up, the discussion had shifted (thankfully) to more concrete matters, one that concerned Regis directly. In fact, the halfling only realized a moment later, the catalyst for opening his eyes had been Cassius's call to him.

“Pardon me for disturbing your sleep,” the Elderman of Ten-Towns quietly said to Regis.

“I–I have been, um, working many days and nights in preparation for, uh, coming here,” the halfling stammered, embarrassed. “And Brynn Shander is a long walk.”

Cassius, smiling, held his hand up to quiet Regis before the halfling embarrassed himself even more. Regis didn't need to make excuses to this group, in any case. They understood his shortcomings and his value—a value that depended upon, to no small extent, the powerful friends he kept.

“Can you take care of this issue for us, then?” Kemp of Targos, who among the councilors was the least enamored of Regis, asked gruffly.

“Issue?” Regis asked.

Kemp put his head down and cursed quietly.

“The issue of the highwaymen,” Cassius explained. “Since this newly sighted band is across the Shaengarne and south of Bremen, we know it would be a long ride for your friends, but we would certainly appreciate the effort if once again you and your companions could secure the roads into the region.”